Page 492 of The Tempted

“Blackie,” she started.

The control never came.

She didn’t have to say the words, the evidence was on me and reflected in her eyes.

“You need to get the fuck out of here,” I growled, angry with her for not telling me, livid that I didn’t realize it first, disgusted by the realization I polluted the purest thing I had ever known.

“It’s okay,” she struggled, as I backed away from her and she hopped off the desk. “I wanted that to happen. Blackie, don’t do that, don’t shut me out,” she begged as she reached for me.

“Get dressed,” I ordered.

“But—,” she argued.

“GET DRESSED!”

I turned my back to her, bending down to pick up my shirt and wipe the evidence of her and me from my cock before pulling up my pants. I didn’t turn around and look at her. I heard her sniffle, and shuffle around the room collecting her shit as I walked to my nightstand and grabbed a vile of heroin and a syringe I kept tucked away in my drawer.

I filled the syringe before knotting the band around my arm and searched for a vein.

“Blackie, please look at me,” she pleaded.

“I’m done looking at you, Lace,” I said stabbing the tip of the needle into my arm before I glanced over my shoulder. “Get out!”

I let the heroin drain from the needle into my veins as the door closed. I pulled the empty syringe from my arm and flicked it onto the nightstand before untying the band and covered my face with my hands, waiting for the numbness to inebriate me.

Leather and Lace.

Opposites.

But the same torture lived inside.

The door opened again, and I lifted my head, prepared to drag her out by her hair if I had to but came face to face with Riggs.

“Get out,” I seethed.

“You the reason Lacey just ran out of here crying?” The newly patched Knight questioned me.

“What’s it to you?”

I rose to my feet, stumbling as the drugs swarmed my system, and crossed my arms against my chest as I struggled to glare at him.

He stepped closer, his eyes zeroed in on my arms before he lifted them to my face.

“You’re using?”

I uncrossed my arms and reached into my back pocket where my gun was tightly secured and brought it around, aiming it at him.

“Get the fuck out of my room, Riggs,” I shouted, unlatching the safety.

Bury me.

End me.

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